The Marauders - Year 1
by TeamJasperForever
Summary: Title says it all - First year at Hogwarts with James, Remus, Sirius, Peter and of course, Lily. I'm rubbish at summaries, it's better than it sounds.. honestly. Please read and review:) xx Rated T, just incase.
1. Chapter 1 - Letters

**Author's note: I do not own any of these wonderful characters(apart from a few characters) or the school or the world. They belong to J.K Rowling. This is not authorised by J.K Rowling or Warner Bros. **

**Chapter 1.0-Letters**

**James's POV:**

The wonderful aroma of bacon frying wafted all through the cottage. James woke up slowly, keeping his eyes shut at first, letting the delicious smell fill him up. He opened his eyes a crack, then immediately shut them, screwing his face up against the morning sun peeping through the curtains. Maybe he would just roll over and go back to sleep…but the smell was just too good to ignore.

James emerged in the kitchen, his normally tousled hair made worse by sleep. He rubbed his eyes before sitting at the table next to his father, who was reading the weekend edition of the _Daily Prophet_. The kitchen, which was a light, friendly room at any time, was made all the more inviting thanks to the customary Saturday breakfast being laid out on the table by James's mother.  
"Good morning, lazybones," Dorea Potter smiled at her only son.  
"You do know it's nearly nine o'clock? I thought I'd have to come and wake you up!" Charlus Potter looked up from his paper and smiled at the sight of the mouth-watering breakfast that his wife was directing from the bench to the table with her wand.  
"Jamie, sleep through breakfast? We'll never see the day," he laughed.  
"And no wonder! How many boys get a breakfast like this to welcome them to their weekend?" Dorea smiled warmly at her husband, and he stood up from his chair to peck her on the cheek. James grinned and picked out the biggest piece of bacon he could find, followed by two sausages, a hash brown, a fried egg and (after a look from his mother) half a tomato.  
"It's brilliant, Mum," he said through a mouthful of egg. "Always is." Dorea smiled again as she joined her husband and son at the table.  
"Then again," Charlus continued, "for Jamie, the weekend is the same as any other day. No school, no work, nothing to do but laze about. Ah, to be eleven again. Maybe you could donate some of your weekend to me, son. I certainly could do with some extra time off; I'm not as young as I used to be." Dorea laughed.  
James looked at his father. True, he did seem to be getting more grey hair every day. James has never thought of either of his parents as old, but they weren't as young as many of the children's parents he saw in the village. He dismissed the thought and continued mowing his way through his breakfast.  
"Ooh, but soon enough he'll need his weekends just as much as you!" Dorea said to her husband.  
"He'll spend his week working hard, learning all sorts of new things, things he'd never learn being lazy round here! Isn't that right, Jamie?"  
James's stomach did a flip-flop, just like it always did when he thought of his impending start at HogwartsSchool of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He wasn't nervous – well, if he was completely honest with himself, he was, a little; but his gastric gymnastics were more down to anxiety, excitement, and the longing he felt to be going to Hogwarts after all this time. James glanced at the calendar, as he always did when he thought of Hogwarts. It was the middle of July; the first of September was creeping closer. Dorea saw her son looking worriedly at the calendar and smiled.  
"It'll be here any day now, Jamie," she said comfortingly. James certainly hoped so. If felt like he had been waiting for weeks – every time an owl turned up, his stomach would fill with butterflies, but so far the owls had on brought notes from mother's friends, or memos from Dad's work. He'd been waiting what for what seemed like forever, but _still no Hogwarts letter!_ The Potters finished their special Saturday breakfast quickly.

When they'd all finished, Charlus went back to his paper, Dorea set the scrubbing brush to work on the pots and pans, and James wandered into the living room, thinking he might turn on the wireless to try and catch the Quidditch scores. He fervently hoped the Cannons had managed to beat the Tornadoes… But just as he tuned into the right station, he heard his mother joyfully calling is name.  
"Jamie! Jamie! Oh, we're so proud –" James rushed back into the kitchen, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tawny owl fly out the kitchen window. Then his focus moved to his mother, who was holding a yellowish envelope out to him. He took the envelope from her hands and stared at it. His name and address were written on the front in green ink. _This was it!_ His hands shook as he tore open the envelope, and as he pulled out the letter inside, his stomach back-flipped.  
"Read it out, son." His father said. James looked up at his parents and grinned.

"_Dear Mr Potter,_" he began,

"_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at __Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._"

James looked up at his parents, who were watching him with obvious pride. As if they hadn't seen it coming! His family was from a long line of wizards; James had grown up knowing that he would eventually get a letter informing him of his enrolment at Hogwarts. But obviously the fact that it had finally happened was getting to his parents just as much as it was getting to him.  
"Well, let's have a look at that equipment list," his mother said, holding out her hand James passed it over, still staring at the piece of paper bearing the wonderful news. "Okay, well, sweetie, we can get all of this in Diagon Alley. If you want we can go tomorrow, I've been needing to go for awhile now anyway… "But James wasn't really hearing his mother's plans. The only thing occupying his mind was the thought of finally doing what he had dreamed of; he was finally going where countless other witches and wizards had gone before him; he was going to learn how to cast spells and make potions and all sots of other things… _He was going to Hogwarts!_


	2. Chapter 1 - Letters continued

**Chapter 1.2 – Sirius's P.O.V**

The view from the windows in the grand house at number 12, Grimmauld Place was not particularly good. For a start, it was sort of blurry; everything past the glass was fuzzy and hard to focus on. It was like looking at something underwater, or through a heat haze. And secondly, the actual view was pretty dismal – nothing but the grey walls of suburban London houses in every direction. Dismal and distorted though it may be, the view from Sirius's top-story window was all he'd ever known. He'd gotten used to the blurriness, which he supposed had something to do with all the enchantments his father had cast over the house. Like the one which stopped anyone who wasn't part of the family or friends of his parents from seeing the house, even if they were standing in front of the porch. Plus, because his bedroom was on the top floor, he could see more than just the next door neighbours' wall or the brown square of grass in front of the house. He had a view of all London, the chimney pots and roof-tops spreading out on every direction. And although this was still a pretty bleak view, Sirius thought as he watched the newly-risen sun try to push through the suburban smog, he had to admit that it was better than a grey brick wall.

As the sun gave up and let the smog engulf it, Sirius poked his head round his bedroom door. A stray strand of thick dark hair fell over his grey eyes, and he swept it back in a habitual way as he glanced up and down the small landing where his bedroom was situated. He nodded and smiled slightly as he saw that his younger brother's bedroom door, located just down the hall from his, was still shut. Sirius started down the stairs silently.  
Life started early in the Black household, and the queue for the bathroom could get dauntingly long alarmingly quickly – and Merlin himself couldn't save you from Mrs Black's wrath if you turned up for breakfast late or with an unwashed face or hands. Sirius arrived at the first bathroom, on the fourth floor, and groaned. Already the door was locked, and worse, he wasn't next in line - his paternal grandfather, Arcturus, was standing by the door. After a quick 'good morning' to his grandpa (who only grunted sleepily in reply) he decided to venture further down the stairs to the other bathroom and chance his arm there. He sighed as he reached the second floor bathroom. This too was fully occupied, and the line had started to form here as well. The fact that it was his brother Regulus, younger by one year; standing outside the door gave him some hope.

"Thought you were still in bed Reggie." Sirius said as he sidled up to his brother, who scowled at the detested nickname.  
"Thought you were," he answered. Sirius grinned.  
"An intelligent answer, that." he said sarcastically, "But then, it is you, so I have to expect simple conversation."  
"Push off." "Who's in there?" Sirius asked, ignoring his brother's remark and nodding towards the bathroom door.  
"Grandmother." Regulus replied, the scowl still etched on his face.  
"Ah." Sirius said. "Well, that's annoying." Out of everyone that lived in number 12, Grimmauld Place – the two boys, their parents, all four grandparents, and their mother's brother Alphard – Irma, the boys' maternal grandmother, was the one who took the longest to get ready in the morning. She had been known to occupy the bathroom for a good twenty minutes, although no-one had the courage to complain to her face.  
"Then again," Sirius continued, "you certainly take your time nowadays. What takes you so long? I was waiting for ages yesterday; you made me late for breakfast. Where you brushing your teeth? Well, I must say, that is a bit of relief; I didn't know that you were aware of the existence of toothpaste…" Regulus growled, and Sirius got blasted with his morning breath.  
Pulling a face, he considered pointing this out to his younger brother, but decided that he had wound Regulus up enough for this time of morning.  
"Push off!" Regulus repeated, more loudly this time. Sirius was glad he hadn't mentioned his brother's awful breath – he was obviously not in a very good mood. Maybe it would be best if he just leave him alone...  
"No, Reggie, that's what I want you to do!" Sirius said as he shoved his brother aside and deftly stepped in between him and the bathroom door just as Irma opened it. Before Regulus could recover, Sirius darted around their grandmother and quickly shut the door in his brother's face. Sirius laughed as he heard Regulus's roar of frustration.  
No doubt the little brat would go running to their mother, but Sirius had never been able to resist having a go at him. Besides, it was worth it. He'd been late to breakfast yesterday, and he'd had to have dry cereal because the milk had run out, and no-one had taken enough pity on him to refill the jug magically.

A slight frown formed on Sirius's face as he turned on the tap. They were in the shape of serpents, just like a number of other things in the grand old house. They'd never really bothered him before, they had just been there. But now, every time he saw something snake-themed, a flutter of worry passed through Sirius's mind. He was due to start at Hogwarts on the 1st of September. His letter had arrived by owl last week, informing him of acceptance at the WizardingSchool. He knew that a lot of people receiving that letter would have been incredibly happy, with their parents' pride obvious. For Sirius, however, the letter was expected, it was nothing particularly special. Occasionally, on the days leading up to its arrival, he'd wondered what would've happened if the letter had never come.  
He knew that his mother's uncle had been a Squib, and he had been removed from the family tree which had hung in the drawing room for decades. As silly as his concerns had been, Sirius had breathed a small sigh of relief when his expected Hogwarts letter had arrived. Now, however, a different worry had started to grow on his mind.  
Ever since the four Hogwarts houses had been introduced, every member of his family had been sorted into Slytherin. But Sirius had been told, by his uncle Alphard, which qualities were attributed to each house, and he'd thought that Slytherin sounded less appealing than any of the other houses. In fact, when compared to Gryffindors values of bravery and daring, Slytherin's principals of ambition and cunning seemed downright undesirable. Sirius knew that, what with his self-confessed arrogance and penchant for causing trouble, he probably would fit in with Slytherin's students. But he felt that, deep down, he really wanted to be Sorted somewhere else. He was a Black, so Gryffindor was probably out of the question, but he knew he was smart – Ravenclaw wouldn't be am impossibility. Then again, he thought, if you were sorted into Ravenclaw, you probably had to actually study…  
Sirius had said this to his uncle at the time, and Alphard had raised his eyebrows and told him that he'd do well not to repeat that to anyone else, especially his mother.

Ever since that day, the reasons for Sirius's aversion to being placed in Slytherin had become more numerous. Apparently the Slytherins held the same pure-blood elitist beliefs that his family did. Sirius was always being told to keep well clear of any Muggle-borns he ever came across when hanging out with the other local wizarding children in the square. He had never fully comprehended this; they all seemed alright to him, and despite his parents' and grandparents' constant use of the term 'Mudblood', he had never perceived the Muggles as dirty or unclean. The news that these unreasonable beliefs were upheld in Slytherin made him wary of his family's traditional house.

The other main reason for Sirius's dislike of Slytherin was his cousins. Narcissa, Bellatrix and Andromeda were all in Slytherin. He didn't have a problem with Andromeda, who was four years older than him; in fact he got on quite well with her. Narcissa, who was two years his senior, was often annoying – her snobbish attitude infuriated him – but as long as they weren't forced into conversation, he could stand to be in the same room as her. Bellatrix, however, was a totally different story. She was only a year older than him, but she never let him forget it. For reasons Sirius couldn't quite remember, he and Bellatrix had been fighting since they were small children. If he was sorted into Slytherin, he would be forced to see her everyday in the common room, and the thought of that was unbearable. No, Sirius had decided, Slytherin was not the house for him. Just as he finished washing his hands, he heard his brother's voice coming from up the stairs. He opened the door, waiting to see who Regulus had gone crying to. Lucky for him, it was Uncle Alphard. When he saw that Sirius had finished she looked at Regulus and told him that the bathroom was now free, so there was no longer a problem. Regulus obviously didn't think much of this theory, but it suited Sirius just fine.  
"Thanks, Alphard," he said to the one person in the whole house who was ever willing to cut him some slack. Alphard smiled at him and retreated downstairs to continue breakfast. Sirius poked his tongue out at his little bother and called him a tattletale before following his uncle, laughing at Regulus's sour expression.


	3. Chapter 1 - Letters still continued

**Chapter 1.4 – Peter's P.O.V**

"And here's one for Sarah, there you go dear, nice big box…" Grandma Pettigrew handed the presents out with a big smile, taking obvious pleasure in spoiling her five grandchildren.  
Peter looked at his sister and the enormous box she was busy unwrapping. Then he looked around at the presents everyone else had received. His grandparents had just got back form a holiday in Italy, and they'd come bearing gifts. Lots of them. Everyone – his parents, his two brothers, Edward and David, and his two sisters, Charlotte and Sarah – were sitting behind great big piles of presents.  
Peter looked down at his own pile after examining all the others. His seemed to be a lot smaller than everyone else's. It didn't take long for the presents to be mercilessly ripped out of their wrappings, and soon all the Pettigrew's were sitting quietly, looking over their hoard, with the two grandparents smiling at the scene.

Edward, who at 19 was the oldest of Peter's siblings, looked around the living room. The floor was strewn with wrapping paper, ribbons and cardboard boxes.  
"Better clear all this away, eh?" he said. He pulled out his wand and made a great sweeping gesture. All the rubbish instantly vanished. Peter saw his grandpa beaming.  
"I wanted to do that!" yelled Charlotte, the second oldest. She had recently turned 17 and took great pleasure in whipping out her wand whenever she felt the need to show off.  
"Fine." Edward shrugged. Then, with a twirl of his wand, he conjured a long, blue ribbon. Charlotte grinned and Vanished it before it floated to the floor.  
Grandpa Pettigrew was practically bursting with pride. This display of magical ability made Peter frown slightly. And hour later, Peter was sitting with his grandma and Sarah in the kitchen, drinking pumpkin juice and feeling glum. He knew that he should be feeling very pleased, for only two days ago an owl had brought him his Hogwarts letter.  
The whole family had been very happy indeed. Up until the letter had arrived, everyone had thought that he might've been a Squib. His grandparents – his mother's mum and dad – especially, had thought that Peter must've missed out on magical ability, for he had certainly never shown any.  
His mother was a pure-blood, and although her parents were by no means elitists, they had feared that because Peter's dad was a Muggle-born, the chance of one of their grandchildren being a Squib was higher. Even Peter himself had, for a while, thought that he must be a Squib. All four of his brothers and sisters had shown magical ability before they received their Hogwarts letter; he hadn't.  
When the tawny owl had shown up with the yellow envelope bearing his name below the Hogwarts crest, a giant wave of relief had crashed over him. But now there was a different anxiety growing on his mind. All his siblings were very talented – Edward had received top marks in his NEWTS and was working to becoming a Ministry of Magic Unspeakable, Charlotte had been made Head Girl, Sarah was a wonderful Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and last year David had won a special Potions award.

Yet he, Peter, had never shown any ounce of talent. When he went off to Hogwarts, everyone would know that he came from a talented family, and he'd be expected to live up to that standard. Peter felt that he'd never be able to do that – never in a million years. He didn't even think he'd make it into Gryffindor, the house that all his family had been Sorted into.  
He had certainly never seen himself as brave... That was just what he needed, to be placed in Hufflepuff with all the other duffers, as David called them, when all his family were proud Gryffindors. Peter was snapped out of his thoughts by his grandma, who was looking at him in a concerned way.  
"Are you okay, dear?" she said. "You looked worried."  
"Yeah, Peter, what's up?" Sarah asked. Out of all his siblings, Peter liked Sarah the most. She was always nice to him.  
"Oh…it's – it's nothing really." Peter stuttered. He didn't think that anyone else would understand his fears, not when they had all been so sure of themselves when they'd gone off for Hogwarts.  
"C'mon, Petey, you can tell us." Sarah said. "Are you worried about going to Hogwarts?" Peter sighed and nodded.  
"Aw, don't worry Peter! You'll make new friends, learn loads of stuff…first year's a blast, there's no big exams to worry about or anything, they really easy you in slowly." Sarah said, smiling at Peter. He looked over at his grandma and she nodded in agreement. He sighed again. He _knew_ they wouldn't understand! His grandma saw that Sarah's words hadn't cheered him up.  
"What exactly is worrying you about going to Hogwarts?" she asked him.  
"You wouldn't understand." sighed Peter.  
"We'll do our best," Sarah said, patting him on the shoulder. Peter took a deep breath and explained his worries and fears. When he'd finished, neither Sarah nor his grandma laughed, as he thought they might have. He knew that David and Charlotte would've, and he was thankful that neither of them ever took enough notice of him to realise he was upset. Not that they'd bother trying to find out why if they did. "Oh, Peter," his grandma said.  
"Nobody cares if you don't become the top of your class. We certainly don't care how well you do at Quidditch or any of those sorts of things. Just try your best and do as well as you can, and we'll be proud of you."  
"But what if I try my best and I still fail?" asked Peter, his voice wobbling. "Peter, I promise, if you really try your best, and have a good attitude, you won't fail." Sarah said.  
"That's right; success is about hard work and perseverance more than brains or talent." his grandma said. "Good," said Peter, tears forming in his eyes, "because I don't have brains _or_ talent."  
"That's not true," said his grandma sternly. "It's not true, and you know it." Peter was starting to get very upset.  
"Compared to everyone else in this family, I'm totally useless!" he sniffed. Sarah patted him on the shoulder again.  
"Peter, what your family has done and what you do are two totally separate things," his grandma said. "We don't measure success against others; we measure it against our own abilities."  
"Yeah, Grandma's right," Sarah said, wrapping her arms around her crying little brother.  
"We don't compare you to anyone else, so you shouldn't keep doing it." Peter nodded and seemed to brighten, but then he remembered something else. "But what about being in Gryffindor?" he asked, still sniffling.  
"Nobody cares what house you go in, Peter." Sarah said. "That's right. As long as you're happy, we're happy." his grandma added.  
Peter finally composed himself and wiped his wet eyes on the back of his hand.  
"Are you exited about going to Hogwarts now?" Sarah asked. Peter realised that now all his worries and fears had been banished, the excitement they had been squashing was rising to the surface.  
"Yeah," he said, "yeah, I guess I am." He smiled at his grandma and gave Sarah a hug before jumping up from the table.  
"What are you doing?" his grandma asked. Peter grinned again. 'I'm going to look through my schoolbooks," he said. He darted out of the kitchen. "You reckon he'll be okay?" Sarah asked her grandma.  
"Oh, once he gets there and finds some nice friends, he'll be fine. He'll love it. Hogwarts is a wonderful place."  
"Yeah. I guess you're right. I just worry about him sometimes." Sarah said. "Must just be because he's the baby of the family."  
"Trust me, darling. He'll find something he's good at, and somewhere to fit in." her grandma said, patting Sarah's hand. 'I hope so."


	4. Chapter 1 - And again

**Chapter 1.6 – Remus's P.O.V**

Day broke slowly, the first rays of sun creeping through the woods. The light fell on the gnarled trees, the tangled bushes, and the form of a young, sandy-haired boy curled amid the twisted roots of one of the larger trees. The boy stirred as the sunlight fell on him, and then slowly raised his head. There were dark shadows under his blue eyes. His arms, legs and face were a mess of bloody scratches. As the boy lifted a hand to wipe his eyes, he noticed the condition he was in. There was a look of resignation on his pale face. Then something about the blood he was covered in caught his attention. He raised his arm to his nose and sniffed. His expression turned to fear. The blood wasn't all his…  
The boy looked around, taking in the scene around him. The roots of the tree he was sitting amongst were smeared lightly with blood. A trickle of the ruby-coloured liquid, drying to black in the early morning sunlight, marked the path he had travelled in the night. He looked closer and, to his horror, he saw small tufts of brown fur dotted along the line of blood. The boy leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree, eyes closed. His drawn face showed a mixture of fear and revulsion. He tried to remember what had happened that night. He remembered pain, and frustration…the thrill of a chase…and the joy of success… He shivered in disgust, and shifted his focus to how he currently felt. There was pain…that was expected…and thirst…and tiredness…but the usual ache of starvation he felt on mornings like this wasn't there. Instead there was only a faint rumble of hunger.  
The boy's feelings of horror and disgust intensified, until he could physically feel it, an awful, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had eaten last night. _Oh, God, no…_ The boy stood up from his place amongst the twisted roots, and staggered along the path laid out by the drying blood. He needed to know, though he dreaded the discovery. After following the bloody trail for what felt like forever, the boy finally came across the thing to which all the blood had once belonged. The mangled corpse of a rabbit was lying to the side of a small clearing.  
The boy's stomach turned at the sight. His knees buckled, and he fell to the soft, earthy ground, vomiting violently.

Faith Lupin glanced at the clock before peeking nervously out the kitchen window. The view was clam and peaceful – trees bathed in golden sunlight swayed in the gentle breeze, creating the familiar, comforting rustling that was ever-present as the forest surrounding the cottage came to life. The sights and sounds of the forest in the early morning normally filled Faith with a calm happiness. But not today. Her kind face was etched with worry. She turned to face her husband. "What if–" she started, but John Lupin cut her off.  
"Don't worry, Faith," he said. His voice was calm but Faith could see the concern in his eyes. "But he's normally back by now. What if–" Again her husband interrupted her.  
"He's been late home before. He'll be back before seven, I'll bet." Faith frowned and turned back to the window.  
"I worry about him so much…" she whispered. John got up from his chair and embraced his wife.  
"So do I, sweetheart," he said. "No child should have to live with a burden like this." Faith nodded.  
"It's not fair," she whispered, her voice barely audible. John kissed her lightly on the forehead. "He'll be back soon." he said. As if on cue, they heard the front door open.  
Faith rushed to the hall and John followed, breathing an unnoticed sigh of relief. Faith embraced her son warmly, then held him at arm's length to examine him. The bloody condition he was in would have alarmed most mothers, but Faith Lupin took it in silently, assessing her son.  
"Are you alright, Remus?" John asked. He could see that his son was upset. Remus looked up at his father, and both parents could see that his blue eyes were showing more than the tiredness and pain they normally displayed on mornings like this. There was fear and disgust in them. Faith and John led Remus to the lounge and sat him on the couch. Faith put her arm around her son and John looked straight into his haunted eyes.  
"What's the matter, Remus?" John asked. Remus flinched away from his father's gaze, choosing instead to stare at his knees. "Please, Remus, we need to know." Faith said. The boy didn't speak or look up. John was about to say something more when his son spoke. "I'm evil." he said flatly. His voice was hoarse. Faith wrapped both her arms around him and John clasped his hand. "No. You're not." John said.  
"Remus, you're not, and you know that." Tears had started falling silently down Remus's face. "I am." he said, his voice steady.  
"Good people don't kill things." Faith and John exchanged a glance over the top of their son's head. "Sweetheart…" Faith started, but she broke off awkwardly, unsure of what to say. "Was it something you came across in the woods?" John asked. Remus nodded.  
"A rabbit," he said softly. "A helpless rabbit. It…I didn't just kill it. I destroyed it, mutilated it…" Faith and John were having difficulty understanding him. His voice was becoming softer and softer, and was starting to wobble.  
"And I ate it." Tears had started to fall from Faith's eyes. John hugged his family in a strong, warm embrace. They sat like that for a while, Remus between his parents. He knew he shouldn't cry, knew that it wasn't helping. But he couldn't stop himself. Last night he had killed another living thing, for the first time he could remember. And now his parents were here, embracing him, stroking his hair, crying for him – why? Why did they put themselves through this? _They should just get rid of me,_ Remus thought. _Cast me out into the woods to live like the savage animal I am._ And it was these thoughts that brought the tears. But eventually the flow of tears slowed, and then finally stopped. Remus wiped his eyes, red and sore from crying. His parents loosened their arms, and looked at him. "It's not your fault." John said, quietly but firmly.  
"Why do you put up with me?" Remus said, his voice a hoarse whisper, barley audible. "Remus, listen to me," Faith held her son's face and looked into his eyes. "We love, you, no matter what. You cannot change who you are. We'll love you no matter what happens."  
"You tried to change me. Tried to make me…normal." Remus said. "Yes, we tried to find a cure," John said.  
"And do you know why we stopped?" "It was too expensive," replied Remus, who had overheard many of his parents' whispered conversations when he should've been in bed. John and Faith were both surprised by his answer, and John opened his mouth to question him, but Faith started talking before her husband could.  
"It was because we accepted you for who you are," she said. "We accepted that you had this condition. We decided that rather than forever be chasing a cure that doesn't exist, we had to accept it, to accept that it wasn't going away."  
"That's right,' John said. "We found it difficult at times, of course. We saw you struggling, always. And it was awful, to feel that helplessness. But you managed, and so did we. And no matter what happens, we will always be here for you, we'll always love you as you are." Remus nodded. He understood. But still… "I just wish I was normal." he said. "If I was, I'd be able to go and learn with everyone else." Faith and John exchanged a happy smile. They may not be able to produce a miracle cure, but for once, they could tell their son something that would make him truly happy.  
"We received a letter from Professor Dumbledore yesterday evening." Faith said.  
"Professor Dumbledore?" Remus said, his head snapping up. "Of Hogwarts?" "The one and only," John said. "He's coming over next week."  
"Coming over? What, here? Why?" "He wants to talk to you," John continued. "He wants to discuss your enrolment at Hogwarts." Remus's mouth fell open, forming a perfect 'O'. "But – my – how can –" he stuttered. Faith laughed gently.  
"He said that it would be awful if a boy like you, a boy who so desperately wants to learn, was deprived of the opportunity of going to school."  
"But – but what about – my condition?"  
"Dumbledore says that as long as certain…precautions...are taken, there's no reason for you to be kept away from school." John replied. Remus's face broke into a huge smile, a smile that banished the pain and sadness from his face. "Really? Truly?" he asked, hardly daring to believe it. His parents both nodded, their faces mirroring their son's expression.  
"So – so – we'll have to go to Diagon Alley – I need books – and robes- and –" John silenced his son with a wave of his hand.  
"Yes, we will –" "Today?" interrupted Remus. "Can we go today?" "Absolutely not," Faith said. "You're tired. You go upstairs, have a bath, and go straight off to bed. We can go to Diagon Alley next week, when you're up to it." Remus practically flew up the stairs, forgetting the ache of his limbs in his excitement. His parents laughed. "A chance at a normal life," Faith murmured to herself. John put her arm around his wife and squeezed her shoulder. "He deserves it," he said. "He'll love it."


End file.
